


Nothing Gold Can Stay

by TrickstersHeir



Series: Brynden the Nothing's Man [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2440412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickstersHeir/pseuds/TrickstersHeir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a trip to Shearpoint goes awry, the dragonborn is forced to use a long guarded secret to save his most trusted companion before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Death and Life

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for the skyrim kink meme: http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/2438.html?thread=4955526#t4955526
> 
> Neverwhere Hall is located north of Lake Ilinalta, across from Lakeview Manor in-game. The Nothing's Men are a group of Robin-Hood style thieves and mercenaries, led by an elusive woman named Atla Stark. This entire fic and series in general is riddled with ASoIaF/GoT references, as well as shout outs to general fantasy series and Pushing Daisies. The title itself is a shout out to this poem:
> 
> Nature's first green is gold,  
> Her hardest hue to hold.  
> Her early leafs a flower;  
> But only so an hour.  
> Then leaf subsides to leaf.  
> So Eden sank to grief,  
> So dawn goes down to day.  
> Nothing gold can stay.
> 
> \- Robert Frost

The Touch of Life, as his Mother's steward had called it, had been a carefully guarded secret since Brynden's youth. It was quite simple really. One touch was all it took for him to resurrect the dead. What was not so simple was the aftermath of doing so. Death did not like to be cheated out of his souls after all.   
  
As with all great abilities, such powerful resurrection came with a caveat. For every life saved, another must be taken within the next twenty-four hours, or his magic would be for naught. The resurrected would crumble into dust, ceasing existence completely. He could also only revive the newly dead. After two hours, the resurrection process didn't work. He could not restore those killed by disease or plague, or by old age.   
  
Whether it was a cruel joke by the Daedra or a foul blessing of the Divines, Brynden did not know. He could count the number of times he had used his gift on his hands. Each memory left it's own individually bitter taste in his mouth. His Mother had made him swear never to use it loosely. It was something to be treasured, yes, but it was not the kind of treasure to be flaunted. Brynden didn't understand why until a fateful night with a Drunken Mercenary, a Thalmor Justiciar, a Dunmer Slave, and a steel dagger pressed against his throat. If Brynden was a green boy before that day, then he was certainly a man afterwards.   
  
Brynden traveled alone after that, the risk of another loss outweighing the benefits of companionship. At least, it was. But that was before Erik came into his life.   
  
Erik, the full-blooded Nord determined to have an adventure and yet knowing nothing of the world outside of Rorikstead. His eagerness and innocence had charmed Brynden's skeptical heart, softening the man into paying for new armor, shield, and a greatsword. Much better than the cheap iron he had been saving up for. It was a pity, though, that the new armour couldn't protect Erik from the Dragon Priest's shout.   


* * *

  
It happened in the blink of an eye. One minute, Brynden was absorbing the words of power scratched upon the wall. The next minute, both a frost dragon and a dragon priest were descending upon them in a fury of wings and shouts. Erik was separated from him in the confusion, and it was only until after the dragon was dead and it's soul consumed that Brynden realized Erik was taking on the priest.  _Alone._  
  
Brynden's heart was seconds away from stopping as a loud  _"FUS ROH DAH!"_  sent Erik soaring backwards through the air and slammed him into the word wall. Above the roar of the winds, there was a sickening crack as Erik's back connected with the stone.   
  
In a whirlwind, Bynden sprinted forward and let loose another arrow, sending it straight through the priest's chest. It staggered the bastard, but the killing blow was the dragonborn's bow bashing against the priest's neck as Brynden viciously tore the mask off of the specter. The priest crumpled into a heap of swaying cloth and ash, but Brynden didn't have time to celebrate his victory. He was racing towards Erik, curses flying from his lips as his dropped to his knees and with practiced care used his healing spell to fix Erik's spine so he could move him over.   
  
"No no no you can't be dead you little bastard-" Brynden's mantra was barely above a whisper. He cradled his friend's corpse to his chest as he forced himself to his feet.   
  
Standing upon Shearpoint, Brynden let out a Nirn-shaking yell of "ODAHVIING!"  
  
It did not take long for the dragonborn to spot red wings approaching. Odahviing landed gracefully as ever, glancing around sharply. "There is no enemy here, Dovahkiin." Remarked the dragon coolly.  
  
"My enemy tonight is time. Find me a bandit camp, please!" Brynden's plea confused the dragon, but he obeyed nonetheless.   
  
Brynden clung tightly to Erik's limp form, keeping him pressed against his chest as he stroked back the younger man's hair. "Fly fast, Odahviing. I can't lose him too."

* * *

 

It took ten minutes to find nearby bandit's camp, and two for Odahviing to put down six of the outlaws. Before he could descend upon their leader, Brynden made him halt and jumped down from the dragon's neck. "Keep him here, alive. We have business to discuss." Ordered Brynden.  
  
The dragonborn carried Erik into the largest tent, laying him out on one of the bed rolls and swiftly removing the younger man's chest plate and gauntlets. Brynden did what he could to make Erik comfortable for when it was over and done with. After stoking the fire and getting the tent up to a suitable heat, Brynden removed his dragonscale gloves and let a small ball of warm yellow light rise from each of his palms. His left hand he used to support the back of Erik's head. His right was rested against Erik's heart.   
  
"Come back to me, Goldie..."   
  
Brynden's gift flowed through Erik, illuminating his veins in a golden glow and lighting up his youthful face. Ever so slowly, Erik's heart began to beat once more. Relief flooded through Brynden like a tidal wave as he let out a broken yet gleeful laugh. Outside of the tent, the bandit leader shivered in fear and apprehension.   


* * *

  
One moment, Erik was atop a mountain in full armor with a storm roaring in his ears and his sword in hand. The next, he was stripped down to his smallclothes and wrapped in a warm blanket of ice wolf pelts. His vision was blurred, barely allowing him to make out the dancing flames over a nearby firepit. Confusion overtook the Nord as his vision slowly returned. He seemed to be in a tent, but for the life of him he could not remember pitching one. Erik tried to call out but found his voice failing him.   
  
"Easy, Goldie. It's going to be a while yet before you get your voice back."  
  
To Erik's left, Brynden sat with his family's bastard sword in his lap. The dragonborn was cleaning it with an old rag, removing blood from the steel with meticulous care. "We were on Shearpoint. The damned dragon priest knocked you out and I had Odahviing bring us down to the nearest camp so I could heal your broken bones. No point in wasting a perfectly good safe place after all."  
  
Erik had the sneaking suspicion it wasn't that simple. Brynden never used that old bastard sword when his bow or twin daggers would suffice. There was something he wasn't being told and it irked him to his very core. He glared, but Brynden only shook his head. "Rest now. We'll talk later." 

* * *

 

Neverwhere Hall was known only as the Lonely Hall by anyone outside of the Nothing's Men. It was the stronghold of the enigmatic and elusive Stark family, overlooking Lake Ilinalta. It was also the next stop on Erik and Brynden's trip. They had originally been heading to Falkreath anyways, and Brynden wasn't about to pay for a cramped room in an inn with Erik still recovering. A week's rest at Neverwhere Hall would give Erik time to fully recuperate, as well as time for Brynden to figure out how in Oblivion he could explain this of all things. A larger portion of him wanted nothing more than to lie, but it wouldn't sit right in the Nothing's Man's heart. Erik deserved the truth.   
  
The truth of which Brynden wasn't quite prepared to tell when Erik finally asked him. The two had parked themselves out on the back porch with mugs of ale and watched the stars above them. Throughout several points of time in the hour, Erik tried to speak but faltered. When he had finally was bold enough to ask, the fire was dying down.   
  
"Brynden... about what happened at Shearpoint-"  
  
Brynden shook his head, staring down at his mug. "I suppose I did promise to talk later. Listen, it's nothing. I healed you after ol' Krosis broke your leg. That's it."  
  
"No, it's not!" Erik insisted. "If it was you wouldn't be acting like, like- this!"  
  
"Use your words, Goldie. Like what?" Brynden prompted.   
  
"You're being grumpy and quiet and you're acting mournful. Like... like- like I died up there! Every single time you've looked at me for the past few weeks it's like you're looking at a ghost." Erik snapped in exasperation. "If you'd just tell me why-"  
  
Brynden cut him off "Stop. Just stop."   
  
Erik was damn well going to continue on, at least until his own angry gaze was met with a look of resignation from Brynden. "It's because you did." He said somberly.   
  
That froze Erik right in his tracks. "What?"  
  
"You died up there, Erik. The bastard's shout pushed you hard enough into the wall that the impact broke your spine, that's why you've been having the back pain. Your heart had stopped by the time I healed you and I couldn't stand to lose you too. So I did what I had to do to bring you back."  
  
Erik fell into shocked silence, his breath stopping. Brynden placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Breathe, Goldie. I didn't bring you back just to have you die on me again. It doesn't work a second time."  
  
Erik let out one shuddering breath. "You can't be serious."  
  
"I wouldn't lie about this, Erik. And I can prove it."  

* * *

 

"Apologies, squirrel. But you're nearest, and I need to prove a point."   
  
Erik watched in sheer confusion as Brynden drove his dagger through the squirrel, killing it instantly. He forced himself to watch as Brynden sealed the wound and then snapped his fingers. His healing hands spell became a ball of golden light, brighter and starker brimming with energy that made Erik's skin prickle with goosebumps. The squirrel suddenly thrashed in Brynden's arms and the man struck it with a quick paralysis spell. The squirrel froze up and Bryden sent it gently on the ground before lifting the spell and letting the squirrel chitter at him angrily.   
  
Brynden removed a small wedge of cheese from his pocket and dropped it in front of the squirrel. The animal scampered off with it all the while making it's disapproval known. Brynden shook his head and turned back to Erik. "Animals are simpler, they don't need time to recover or an exchange to stay around. But men, mer, the khajiit and argonians, they're all sentient enough that Death requires a replacement."   
  
"Who did you kill, to bring me back?" Erik was wide-eyed and shivering.   
  
"A bandit chief, one who we had already taken a bounty for. He was scum enough to deserve his death."  
  
"That's why you had out Wordkeeper? You were playing headsman?"   
  
"I gave the sentence, and so I swung the sword. I had to, after all. There was no way in Oblivion I was going to leave you up on that mountain alone and Death demands I make retributions for what I steal."  
  
There was silence throughout the woods. Erik's gaze directed at the sky, then the ground, then the trees. Anything but in Brynden's eyes. "Let's go back to the hall, give you a chance to rest. You must be tired from our travelling."  
  
Reluctantly, Erik let himself be led back to the hall. His mind was a maelstrom of thoughts and he wasn't about to find any peace in sleep. Both employer and hireling were in for a long night ahead of them.  
  


* * *

  
"I'm going to collect the bounty from Nenya in Falkreath." Announced Brynden over breakfast. "You'll stay here, let yourself rest a bit more. It'll help with the back pain. That's an order, Goldie."   
  
"Understood." Erik replied curtly, not bothering to look up from his bread and cheese.   
  
Brynden frowned, hating to have to order Erik around but knowing the lad would need time alone to clear his head space and allow himself to think. "Would you like anything from town?"  
  
"No, thank you."   
  
Brynden fretted over Erik's formal disposition, unsure of what he could do to coax back the happy and cheerful Erik that brightened the room whenever he grinned. "Just... think over it, okay? I understand if you don't want to work with me after this. I'll bring you back to Rorikstead tomorrow, get you an extra payment for all of the shit you've put up with because of me. I'd hate to see you leave, but it's your choice. I'll be back this evening."   
  
Without further ado, Brynden gathered his gear and left Erik alone in the hall to collect his thoughts and come to a decision.

 

 


	2. Ice and Fire

  
Erik went back to Rorikstead that day, Brynden insisting on riding with him. He'd cited his reasons as wanting to catch up with some friends in Solitude anyways. They separated outside of Frostfruit Inn, Brynden pulling Erik into a tight hug before mounting his black stallion once more. As Erik watched him ride off, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach grew. He couldn't meet his father's questioning gaze when he finally turned away from Brynden's retreating form on the horizon.   
  
One week later, Erik found himself setting out on his silver mare. He was bound for Falkreath once more. Though his head claimed it was for the sake of adventure, his heart said differently.   
  


* * *

It was three months later when Brynden caught up with Erik once more, by the Thalmor Embassy of all places.   
  
Brynden was travelling to Solitude with Meeko, a stray dog he picked up near an abandoned shack after the untimely death of his old owner. That was something he realized he did a lot, picking up strays. Strays like Meeko and Etienne Rarnis and Erik himself.   
  
Though he could not admit it aloud, Brynden missed Erik more than he missed Neverwhere Hall sometimes. The difference wasn't that he could actually find Neverwhere Hall instead of Erik. The difference was that the Thalmor couldn't.   
  
The note reached him by a trembling courier, just outside of the Solitude Stables. Five minutes after he had read the note, Brynden had already composed his own note to be sent to Falkreath, and then was astride Onyx once more with Meeko charging beside him. The Thalmor had made their last insult against the Nothing's Men. Brynden was prepared to raise all of Oblivion if it meant getting Erik away from that twisted bitch of an elf.   
  


* * *

  
Five riders and a scrappy dog approached the Thalmor Embassy at midday. It was like the start of a bad joke, except it wasn't the start and no one was laughing. A rarity for the Nothing's Men, who could find a laugh in almost any situation. Brynden usually laughed the loudest of them all. His tight-lipped silence only added to grimness of the situation.   
  
"Wait for our signal." Instructed Atla to her chosen riders as she and her son dismounted. "The smoother this goes off for us, the better. This is about rescuing Erik first, and sending our message second."   
  
With that the six parted, three remaining under the cover of the trees and three walking forward in the riskiest heist they had planned in their lives.   
  


* * *

  
Erik felt cold despite the dungeon's stifling heat. His sides ached from relentless dry heaving. His sword and armor sat just outside of his cell, so temptingly close and yet always out of reach. His memory was still fuzzy and his disorientation had not yet left him. How long had it been since the Thalmor Justiciars had seized him outside of Riften? A few days? A week? Time seemed to stand still within the tight walls of the cell.  
  
A gentle scratch of footsteps caused the mercenary to shudder. The guard who walked by him didn't give a second glance, ignoring the shaking prisoner in his shackles. He had fought at first, they all fought at first. They bared their teeth and snarled like wolves, until Elenwen came and made them tuck their tail and whimper like whelps. Erik was not different than any other the others. Elenwen herself had made it clear.   
  


* * *

  
Brynden might have actually had some respect for Elenwen had she not been so uppity and self-righteous. The woman had the sort of cunning that could topple nations to build new empires. Elenwen had a beauty to her, but it was a beauty like a well-forged dagger or a particularly strong dragon. One not to be messed with lest you were suddenly met with the pointy end.   
  
And as she looked at him with her slick smile, his soul burned with dragon fire.   
  
"You're a talented man, Brynden Stark. I hate to kill you." She said smoothly.  
  
"You're a talented mer, Elenwen. I hate to die." He replied. 

* * *

 

The crudely scratched "FUCK THE THALMOR" was still engraved in the walls from Brynden's last visit. Atla gave a silent snicker at the words on the wall when she passed by them. Truly this was her son's work - both insulting and damn near impossible to cover up. It appeared to be infused with a spell of her own making, designed to repel any attempts to cover it up. Oh the trouble she had caused in Cheydinhal with that little trick…  
  
Fond memories aside, Atla crept up behind the oblivious guard and had her blade through his throat before he even noticed she was there. The action broke her invisibility spell, but no one else was there to witness the nord woman's sudden appearance other than a wide-eyed Erik. Atla straightened up and obliterated the reinforced locks on said cell with a quick spell.   
  
"If it can't be picked, blow it up." She murmured to her self with a cocky grin. "Allo, Erik. It's been awhile since I've seen you."  
  
Erik instinctively jerked away from her touch, causing Atla to frown and slowly pull away. A quick observation revealed Erik's wrists had been rubbed raw by the manacles. His chest, upper arms, and thighs were spotted with vivid purple bruises. She felt his aches just looking at them.   
  
"Those bastards will pay for that." Muttered Atla as she worked on breaking the chains.   
  
When she finally managed to release Erik, he collapsed into her arms with a dry noise in his throat. He tried to form words but only came up with racking coughs. Atla hushed him soothingly and ran a healing spell over his cuts and bruises. Ever so slowly they faded away from his skin until all of the fresher scars were gone.   
  
The leader of the Nothing's Men pulled a small water skin from her satchel, raising it to the Nord's lips for him to re-hydrate himself. Erik just barely managed to keep it down.   
  
"Is Brynden-" Were the first words out of Erik's mouth, and they were quickly interrupted by Atla.   
  
"Brynden is occupied at the moment. We'll be seeing him again soon. Are you well enough to walk? We put spare clothes for you in Meeko's pack." 

* * *

 

Getting out of the Thalmor Embassy was a blur. The only thing Erik could recall thinking was that it shouldn't have been that easy. By the time he reached the forest's edge, the realization had hit him. Twenty-five of the nothing's men had joined the original five, making only thirty men. Brynden was not one of them.   
  
"He's not here, is he?" He asked quietly as Atla bundled him into a black cloak with a thick fur collar. "He's inside."   
  
Atla pursed her lips. "You're quick, Erik. Bryn feared you would think he'd abandoned you."   
  
"He'll die in there, Atla!" Exclaimed Erik in panic.   
  
Atla stroked Erik's matted hair fondly. "Don't discredit my son. Death does not stop a Nothing's Man. It merely delays them for a while."

* * *

  
Elenwen's conjured sword collided with Brynden's dagger, making a metallic shriek as her spell dissolved. Brynden blasted a frost spell at Elenwen's stomach, making her stumble back. Their positions shifted as the Thalmor and the Nothing's Man circled each other in a flurry of conjured blades and spells. Brynden's dagger met Elenwen's hand in in mid air, slicing through her palm and making her cry out in shock and rage. Elenwen swiftly retaliated with a shock bolt that struck Brynden in the chest and sent him flying straight back into the wall.   
  
Lightning crackled under Elenwen's fingers and victorious smile lit up her face. "If you want the boy to remain safe, you will do exactly as I say." She said with a smugness to her voice.   
  
"If you wanted my cooperation, you wouldn't have touched him." Brynden snarled back, his head pounding.   
  
Desperately he tried to get up. Elenwen's shock spell was still sending spasms down his legs and shaking him up so he couldn't regain his balance and stand. The elf was perfectly aware of it, stepping towards him with a gloating look. She placed one of her hands under Brynden's chin, the other to his chest with a conjured blade. She pressed herself up to the man, getting into his space and by extent, under his skin.   
  
Elenwen smiled at her own cruel joke. "Your choice, Nothing's Man. Your death and his extended torture, or your compliance and his safety and the safety of your organization.You will not see him in your precious Sovngarde if you defy me. And maybe there would even be a reward for you, as my ally..." She purred.   
  
Brynden spit in her face.   
  
"I am Oblivion bound already, Elenwen." He growled. "We would've never met in Sovngarde anyways. I don't want your rewards."   
  
Her scathing reply of "Bastard, I-" was cut short by Brynden's second short blade slicing the side of her robes. She jerked back in surprise, and Brynden took the opportunity to spin his blade around and plunge it into her throat. The mer's healing spell quickly died in her hands. She fell back, and Brynden darted forward on unsteady legs to yank his dagger from her neck.   
  
For the first time in her life, Elenwen felt fear. Brynden grinned like a son of Sheogorath as he sent an ice spike straight through her heart.   
  
The laughter that consumed the solar as Elenwen's gave her final breath was chilling to the bone. It was the laughter of a man who had both nothing and everything to lose all at once. "You died as you lived." He proclaimed to the corpse. "With a heart encased in ice. May Death judge you wisely."  
  
Brynden made a funeral pyre out of Elenwen's desk after cleaning it of anything valuable. He laid her body across it and rested a copy of the Talos Mistake and a golden necklace against her chest. A flame spell set the pyre alight, flames catching within moments. Just because he had to kill her, it didn't mean the Nothing's Man was going to slack off on respect for the fallen.   
  
And with all of the documents collected and no further reason to stay, Brynden turned around and left. It should not have been easy it felt. It should have weighed on his shoulders and yet Brynden found himself with no regrets. At the end of the day, Erik was always worth it. 

* * *

 

Guards fell to endless streams of arrows being fired from the trees. Fingers snapped up new destruction spells with each turn around. Jhara was a whirl of claws and fire, spitting curses in the khajiit tongue at every thalmor on the field. In the midst of the combat, Atla Stark wielded her bastard sword with a smile as wicked and sharp as a hagraven's claw. She cleaved heads left and right, dancing in the death around her. The Nothing's Men were stubbornly staying alive, determined to win like never before. None who fell had fallen without taking at least three thalmor soldiers with them.  
  
Erik longed to join the battle, to get his revenge on the soldiers in the storm of swords. He ached for close combat once more. But Atla had strictly forbidden it, giving him her bow and telling him to shoot whatever approached him and nothing more. Blood boiled in his veins, but his still healing ribs prevented him from defying Atla's orders. Meeko had been commanded to stay beside him, and the mutt performed his duty to the letter. Meeko growled continuously, his hackles raised as he stood loyally beside Erik. He only strayed once, to tear the throat out of a guard who had gotten too close before Erik could knock an arrow in the ebony bow.   
  
Just as it seemed the battle would go on forever, the winds shifted. The gates of the embassy were blown open by the force of a voice Erik could recognize anywhere. Everyone on the field stumbled at the aftershocks of Brynden's thu'um, Nothing's Men and Thalmor alike. Brynden himself ran through the gates with his twin daggers drawn and a broad grin plastered on his face. "For Life!" He hollered, slicing open the throat of the nearest guard and spinning around to confront the next.   
  
His war cry was echoed by the Nothing's Men, their spirits restored by their co-leader's victory. Spells and arrows were flying left and right, until it was down to nineteen Nothing's Men, and one younger Thalmor soldier who quickly surrendered himself when he saw all hope was lost.  
  
Atla quickly ordered the remaining Nothing's Men to build a mass pyre for the Thalmor Soldiers after looting their bodies. She then turned towards her new captive.  
  
"So you're the wise one!" Jeered Atla, slinging her sword back into it's sheath on her back and sashaying forward. "Some reputation you live up to, lad. I thought the Thalmor never surrendered to anyone. I have a deal for you, elf." 

* * *

  
While Atla laid out the terms of the soldier's message bearing and the Men handled the pyre, Brynden raced off to find Erik. He pulled the shorter man into a tight hug the moment he found him. Erik dropped Atla's bow at the suddenness of it, wrapping his arms around Brynden's neck and resting his head onto the taller man's shoulders. The dragonborn's left hand raised to tangle itself in copper hair while his right pressed against the small of Erik's back.   
  
Once they'd finally separated themselves, Brynden readjusted Erik's cloak and brushed the stray hair from his face. "Are you alright?" He asked quietly, holding Erik's face in his hands and stroking his thumb over his cheek.   
  
Erik nodded, his exhaustion finally catching up to him. "I'm fine."  
  
"You're worn out. How much sleep have you gotten since they've taken you? We need to get you a proper meal and a bath once we get back to Rorikstead." Brynden fretted like a mother hen, making Erik smile despite the hint of tears in his eyes.   
  
But what Brynden said next caught him off guard. "Do you want to help light it up?"

* * *

 

"Hold!" Erik's bowstring was pulled taught, his thumb anchored on his mouth.   
  
"Fire!" He released the fire arrow, watching it soar through the night sky and into one of the open windows.  
  
Nineteen arrows followed it, each hitting a different area. After only a few more shots, the entire Embassy was ablaze. The oil slicks that had been set up caught immediately, burning anything not made of stone. And as Erik stepped back to watch the flames build higher and higher, the laugh that broke out from him shocked even himself. To see the flickering reds and oranges and yellows contrasting against the inky black of the night sky, to see the place that had been his own personal plane of Oblivion for the past two weeks fall... Nothing felt more like victory than that.  
  
"Come on, you. It's high time you got some rest. You can ride with me so you don't fall off the horse. along the way." Brynden smiled fondly, placing a hand at Erik's back.   
  


* * *

  
When Erik next awoke, the sun was shining down on his face and Meeko was curled up at his feet. It took him a moment of petting the relaxed dog to figure out he was in his own room, at home, safe. Glancing around the sunlit bedroom, he spotted Brynden curled up in the armchair beside his bed, fast asleep and bathed in golden light like a ginger cat. He had changed into roughspun cotton pants and had a light blanket wrapped around his bare shoulders. A smile graced his features, making him seem much younger than his thirty-four years.   
  
Erik found his eyes fluttering shut once more, and he succumbed to the warmth of sleep.   
  


* * *

  
It was two weeks later that the call of the road beckoned to Brynden once more in the form of letter from Neverwhere Hall. At breakfast, Erik and Mralki were greeted by an already armored up Brynden who gave Mralki a firm handshake and Erik a tight hug. With a quiet explanation of his intentions to return home and a thanks for allowing him to stay and oversee Erik's recuperation, he turned to part. Erik almost felt his heart break in half as he watch him reach to open the door.  
  
Once more Brynden would walk away, would ride off into the sun without him. The thought of it made him anxious. Without thinking, Erik charged after him and called out "Wait!"   
  
And then Brynden turned around, a broad grin on his face. "Yes, Goldie?"  
  
"Can I come with you again?" Erik asked, voice shaky.  
  
"There will always a place for you by my side, Goldie. Your silver mare and armor await us at the whereabouts of Never." Brynden replied.  
  
And if Erik practically jumped into Brynden's arms and almost knocked him over when he ran to embrace him, well, only Meeko and Mralki where there to witness it.   
  
As the duo headed out of Frostfruit Inn, both found that everything felt right in the world once more.


End file.
